Britt at 6:00 PM

by sibyllene   Jul 1, 2011


Lighthanded,
she whisks a spoon around the kettle,
unraveling spools of savory spices

onions twined around carrots, licked
with garlic and snuggling in
with deep potato notes

dead blood pooling, curdling,
and meat bubbling off the bone.

Above the stove, sun whistles in
through the window. She gazes like
a sunflower, unseeing, face tilted
towards the light.

She sighs into the steam, hums a song
as quiet as a radish
still buried
notes drop, plop, plip into
the boil.

With a shrug of the shoulders,
spine resettling, she scratches an ankle
and hoists the pot,
twirling herself like cutlery.

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Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by zvikov

    Captivating poem, detailed description - pictures in my mind!

  • 12 years ago

    by ddavidd

    I thought sunflowers turn their back in six pm
    no matter how delightful you stewing it.

  • 12 years ago

    by silvershoes

    Adorable and gentile and sweet like syrup.

    I loved this the first time I laid eyes on it, and I love it still.

    Definitely a favorite.

  • 12 years ago

    by ArtistrySoul

    A noteless poem, it made me image each line of the poem :), and i'm with Chelsey when you said 'As quite as a radish'

  • 12 years ago

    by Failing Stoic

    This is a pretty cute piece. Friends should inspire us, and it's refreshing to read a poem as naked and honest as this, it proves you're not limited to a specific subject matter. I'm sure Britt will forever cherish what you've here written

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